


Human, Real

by colorcoded



Category: Pinocchio (1940)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2018-12-08 02:19:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11636910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorcoded/pseuds/colorcoded
Summary: After a little more than ten years, the Blue Fairy turns all the boys from Pleasure Island back into humans, but Lampwick has no living family. He goes to live with Pinocchio instead, who supports him as he adjusts to being human again.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for [this excellent prompt](http://disney-kink.dreamwidth.org/1523.html?thread=2645235#cmt2645235) over at [disney_kink](http://disney-kink.dreamwidth.org)

It was on a night like any other that the Blue Fairy came. Perhaps the stars shone brighter that evening, but Lampwick hadn't noticed. He was awakened from his slumber by a glow like dawn, but it wasn't from the sun that the pale blue light came -- it was a shimmering woman with fairy wings.

There were two others like him in the stables, and she went to each of them in turn, gently touching them with the tip of her wand. When it was his turn, Lampwick shut his eyes tight, and when he opened them, he lay curled up on the ground, his hands closed into fists. _Hands._

He saw too that she had given them all new clothes, plain outfits consisting of a shirt, a vest, trousers, and a coat. He stood and took a few unsteady steps toward a water trough. He could hear the hoarse voices of the others but the sight of the strange face staring up at him from the water soon drowned them out. It was a man's face, with a mop of red hair, dark bags under the eyes, and hollow cheeks lightly covered with sideburns. He touched his face, marveling, and his reflection did the same.

"Return home," the Blue Fairy had told them then. "You must return to your family and tell them where you've been all these years."

He meant to thank her before she faded from sight, but the words wouldn't come. Instead the three newly-transformed men stood in silence before stumbling out of the stables, pounding off toward the town as fast as their feet would take them.

Lampwick arrived at his home the next evening. His ma was already gone, though, had died four years ago without ever knowing what had happened to her good-for-nothing son, and her tenement was now occupied by another family. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Lampwick walked aimlessly through dark streets. It had been drizzling all day and now the damp chilled him. Curling up under the eave of a house, he drifted off to sleep.

... Only to be woken soon afterward by an unnatural blue light. Once again, the fairy stood in front of him, her gown shimmering.

"Why, Romeo," she said, using the name his mother had given him. (How had she known his name? Aww well, she was a fairy. He supposed they just knew things like that.) "Why haven't you returned home?"

He looked up at her, his voice too sore from disuse to form a proper explanation, but she seemed to know what was the matter.

"You don't have a home anymore?" she asked.

He shook his head.

The Blue Fairy tapped her wand to her cheek in thought, and then came to a decision. "You must seek out the woodcarver," she said. "I'm sure he'll understand what you've been through."

"The... woodcarver?" Lampwick asked hoarsely.

"Yes," the fairy said as she began to fade from sight. Her last words lingered in the air longer than she did: "After all, you were once... best friends."


	2. The Woodcarver

A few dabs of paint on the tail of the rocking horse, and the woodcarver was done. It was one of his better works, the wood sawed, sanded, assembled and painted with utmost care and precision. When it was fully dried, he'd be able to display it in the window of his shop. He set aside his brush with a yawn and rubbed his tired eyes. It had been a quiet, peaceful evening, like most evenings were. The shop only got a few visitors during the day, and at night it was just him and his carvings, plus Figaro and Jiminy.

It had been a livelier place when his father was there. Father had always been eager to talk about his latest project, or to show off a new contraption he'd made. The workshop had seemed smaller then, smaller and cozier and filled with light. The young man sighed, thinking back fondly on those days. The numerous clocks in the room had struck nine when he finally blew out the lights and climbed into the old carved bed.

"C'mon, Figaro, ya old cat," he called, patting the portion of the bed next to him.

Figaro paced across the room and leapt up onto the bed, curling up into a content, purring ball at the woodcarver's side.

"Good night, Jiminy," the woodcarver said through a yawn.

A tiny voice belonging to a cricket answered in reply, "Good night, Pinoc."

 

No sooner had he closed his eyes, a loud rapping at the door caused him to sit up with a start. Pinocchio lit a candle as he heard the cricket's indignant, "Now who's that, at this hour? People're trying to sleep in here."

"I dunno, Jiminy," Pinocchio replied. He opened the door, and the light from his candlestick illuminated a man standing on the steps. Before Pinocchio could even offer a greeting, however, the man had stepped past him into the house and began surveying the humble workshop with his eyes. "Hey -- swell place you got here." His voice was light but oddly hoarse.

"Can -- can I help you?" Pinocchio asked politely.

"Whaddaya mean?" the man said. "Don't you remember me? Your ol' pal -- Lampwick!"

Pinocchio stood for a moment, not comprehending, but then he saw something familiar about the bucktoothed smile, the large ears and red hair... The candlelight accentuated the dark hollows the traveler had under his eyes, but all the same, an image of a carefree boy holding a cigar in his hand came to mind -- and suddenly it all came flooding back to him. "Oh, Lampwick!" he said, his features breaking into a broad smile. He stepped forward to shake the other man's hand eagerly. "Jiminy, you remember Lampwick, don't you?" The cricket seemed determined to get some shut-eye, though, and didn't answer from his tiny bed. That was when Pinocchio remembered that Jiminy hadn't even liked Lampwick very much when they had met.

... And then one moment later, he remembered all the rest -- Pleasure Island and the horrors he'd seen there that were like a bad dream to him now, and, and, _Lampwick._ "What happened to you, after -- after --" his voice faded away, not knowing how to put into words what had happened in that terrifying place. The question he'd started to ask, though, was one he had wondered many times when he was a child.

Lampwick paused for only half a second before waving his hand dismissively. "It's a long story, and it ain't important anyhow," he said. "I just need a place to stay. You know, to get out of the rain. That won't be a problem will it?"

The woodcarver blinked in surprise but quickly recovered. "No, of course, there's my old bed over there," he said, taking the coat Lampwick had already tossed aside carelessly and hanging it on a carved wooden rack. "Oh, but you can take Father's, it's larger," Pinocchio offered, but his old friend was already sprawled out on his old bed, hands folded behind his head.

"Nahh," Lampwick said as he kicked off his shoes, "this one's fine."

After offering him food, drink, and extra blankets, all of which were answered with "nah"s or a "maybe tomorrow," Pinocchio at last settled back into his bed, blew out his candle, pulled the covers over himself, and bid the newcomer good night. "You'll tell me sometime, though?" he asked the darkness.

"Tell ya what?"

"Your story, I mean," Pinocchio said.

There was a small silence before Lampwick's answer came: "Yeah, sure."


	3. First Day

The easiest parts of Lampwick's story were the most recent. When Pinocchio asked him the next morning how long he had been human, that was easy enough to answer. "A few days," he said, looking down at Pinocchio where he knelt by the fireplace, cooking eggs. As his host prepared breakfast and started setting the table, Lampwick related the story of the Blue Fairy he had seen and how she had arrived and simply set all the donkeys who had once been boys free.

The woodcarver's eyes lit up as Lampwick told the story. "Really? The Blue Fairy?" he asked. "She turned me human too." Before Pinocchio could say anything else, though, a small voice interrupted.

"Morning, Pinoc! Now, who's this fellow?"

"Oh," Pinocchio said, glancing up from the wooden utensils he was placing on the table to nod in Lampwick's direction. "That's Lampwick. He's staying with us until he finds a place of his own."

Lampwick looked left and right trying to find who Pinocchio was talking to. Then he saw the tiny cricket on the table.

"We were best friends during the time I spent on Pleasure Island," Pinocchio was saying to the tiny creature, "remember?"

The cricket jumped at that. "Pleasure Island?!" The tiny words cut across the air. "Then isn't this that loafing, good-for-nothing..."

"Jiminy!" the woodcarver cut in. "Don't be like that. Lampy's been through a lot." With a smile, Pinocchio motioned for Lampwick to take a seat at the table. Lampwick complied and, with an uncertain hand, picked up a fork and stared at his plate. His fingers felt strange, and holding a fork felt unnatural. And the sight of fried eggs and vegetables laid out neatly for him on a plate was equally foreign. He must have been staring at his breakfast for a while because Pinocchio asked him if everything was all right. "Yeah, fine," he said. Once he got over the shock, though, he found it took all his willpower _not_ to shovel the food into his mouth. He hadn't eaten a thing since becoming human, and nothing had ever tasted so good.

Pinocchio had set a third plate on the table, which at first Lampwick thought was for the bug, but halfway through the meal, they were joined by an old black cat. Figaro, Pinocchio called it. It stretched its back and then blinked sleepily at the plate in front of it.

If Lampwick thought that his day was going to be relaxing, though, that thought only lasted through breakfast. As he finished eating the last few peas and asparagus off his plate, the cricket addressed him. "So, ahem, Lampwick? You don't have a place to stay?" it asked.

"Nope," Lampwick answered.

"And I'm guessing you don't have a job now either."

"Nope."

"And I don't suppose you've been to school much, huh?"

Lampwick could almost _feel_ the waves of judgment coming from the little cricket now. He hadn't gone to school much even when he was _human_ \-- and he was sure the cricket could come to that conclusion on its own.

"Well!" the little bug said after a moment. "After breakfast, we've got work to do, then. If you're going to live here, you've got to get a job to support yourself! Which means you oughta spend today looking for work around town."

"Oh, I'll help!" Pinocchio said, half-rising from his chair.

"Hold on a moment, Pinoc," the cricket replied. "You've got the shop to tend. I'll go with Lampwick and keep an eye on him."

So that was how Lampwick found himself walking around town with a bossy cricket tucked into his cap, a cricket who was constantly telling him to talk to that shopkeep there or inquire over at that building over there. By the time the sun was setting, Lampwick hadn't found the slightest bit of work, and all of the cricket's chirping made him feel like he was worth less now than when he had been a donkey.

Jiminy seemed pleased by his effort though and had suggested they go home. "We'll search again tomorrow," said the little voice from his cap cheerfully.

_"We?"_ was Lampwick's only reply. But the delicious smells wafting from the window of Gepetto's old shop promised a better end to a long day.

 

* * *

 

Unlike the first night when Lampwick had slept in his day clothes, that night when all the lights had been snuffed except a candle on Pinocchio's desk, Lampwick stripped off his clothes and laid them on the floor next to his bed, and then climbed under the bedcovers. With a sideways glance, Pinocchio noticed Lampwick's thin frame, the way the edges of his rib cage were visible even in the dim candlelight. He bit his lip, but didn't speak. Now wasn't the time for questions, and he didn't want to be rude by staring either. Bidding Lampwick good night, Pinocchio blew out the candle.


	4. Girls

A few days passed before Lampwick found work. It was only a temporary construction job, erecting the new bank building, Jiminy had told Pinocchio, but it was good, honest work and Jiminy was pleased. The boarder was out of the workshop early in the morning and came back when the sun was beginning to set, which meant that Pinocchio's weekdays were spent pretty much as they were before Lampwick's arrival -- quietly carving and tending the shop.

This day was different, however. Lampwick was a while getting up so that by the time Pinocchio was pulling on his socks, Lampwick had only just sat up in bed. Pinocchio's eyes wandered to Lampwick, sitting bare-chested on his bed, and staring tiredly off into space, and he was glad to see that Lampwick was much less emaciated than he'd been before. Lampwick glanced up at Pinocchio, their gazes meeting briefly. Pinocchio reddened and quickly looked away. With his back to the bed, he tucked his shirt into his trousers and then went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

After breakfast, Lampwick announced that the foreman had given him the day off. "I figured I could stay and help around the shop," he offered.

"Oh!" Lampwick had never been around the shop on the days it was open, having been either out working or looking for work with Jiminy. There wasn't all that much that needed to be done during the day, but at least in the morning, there was the work of setting up the shop. Pinocchio set Lampwick to opening the windows and sweeping the floor while he washed and dried the dishes. Then there were the new pieces to display, his workbench to tidy up, and a few other chores, and afterwards they were ready to open up the shop.

The morning was quiet after that. At his workbench, Pinocchio focused intently on his current project, while Lampwick took a seat in the corner and, for lack of anything else to do, dozed off.

At lunch, Pinocchio apologized for the quietness of the day. "Maybe I could give you a book? Or a game, or... " He scratched his head. "What do you like to do in your free time?"

Lampwick shrugged. "Beats me. It's been a while since I actually needed to kill time, y'know?" He bit off a chunk of bread and chewed it thoughtfully. As they were finishing up lunch, though, an idea came to him. "If you've got a deck of cards," he said, "there are a few games I'm sure I can still play."

Pinocchio retrieved an old deck amongst his old things and the two of them went back to tending the shop. In the afternoon, a young woman with curled black hair entered the shop, one of his regular customers. Pinocchio smiled. "Good afternoon, Violetta," he said. "How can I help you?"

"Good afternoon -- oh!" Violetta said, stopping in surprise after seeing Lampwick playing cards in the corner. "You must be Pinocchio's boarder! I'm afraid I've forgotten your name."

"Lampwick," Pinocchio offered.

"That's right, Lampwick," she said cheerfully. "Pinocchio told me about you."

"Oh... really? Did he?" Lampwick looked at Pinocchio.

"Yeah, I guess I did," Pinocchio replied. Violetta had come by earlier that week and he'd ended up talking about Lampwick for some time.

"He had only good things to say," Violetta said as she started walking through the shelves of the shop. Pinocchio went back to his work while his customer remarked on the carvings and shared recent stories about her aunt or her cat or any of many things that came to her mind. After she reached the end of the shop, she appeared over at the end of workbench and asked Pinocchio what he was working on.

"It's a chair -- see?" he replied.

Violetta peered over his shoulder at the pieces spread out on the table. "Oh, it's marvelous," she said. For a long while she stood there and asked him questions and chattered on cheerfully, until off in the distance a bell tolled three times. "Oh no," she said suddenly. "I was supposed to meet my sisters at three in the town square. I'm so sorry, I have to go." She rushed out, the bell on the door jangling behind her.

After she had gone, Lampwick let out a low whistle from the corner of the shop. "She's quite a looker," he said.

"She is, isn't she? Sweet gal," Jiminy agreed from his perch on the fireplace, surprisingly enough. The two of them never agreed on anything, it seemed.

"I think she likes you too, Pinoc," Lampwick added.

"What?" Pinocchio said. He glanced up from his work, eyebrows creasing in confusion. "You mean -- ?"

Lampwick sat back against his chair and smiled.

Once again, Jiminy concurred with Lampwick, adding, "The whole time, she was making eyes at you like this --" The cricket batted his eyes. "Looks like someone's got an admirer."

Pinocchio's face fell. "...Oh."

"What kinda reaction is that?" Lampwick asked, amused. "'Oh'?"

Pinocchio looked down at his hands, which were scratching idly at the wood in front of him. It was something he'd noticed before, on several occasions: Just because he was _real_ didn't mean he was, well, _normal._ During his school days, when his classmates had fawned over the prettiest girl in class or had talked about who they were going to ask to dances, Pinocchio had agreed when the other boys agreed, nodded when they nodded, and yet on some level he didn't really understand what they were talking about. Girls were like anyone else to him, and he didn't understand what the other boys meant when they talked about _light-headed giddiness_ or being _head over heels._

"I take it she ain't your type then?" Lampwick asked. "She might get the wrong idea, the way you let her talk on like that." It had been over an hour since Violetta first entered the shop.

"Oh -- well -- I was just being polite..." Pinocchio said. He just figured that listening when people talked and answering with a friendly response when expected to was common sense. "I don't like her like that at all." Feeling embarrassed and just a little bit weird, he returned to his work.


	5. The Farm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to post a fic that was originally meant to be one long thing as multiple chapters is difficult, and I thought the last chapter was a bit awkward. I'm separating this out into its own chapter and posting the next chapter.

Lampwick found that the farm wasn't all too hard to talk about, once he started. He had worked there for eight or nine years as a jackass, up until the night the Blue Fairy uncursed him. When Pinocchio asked him one day what he did on the farm, he answered that it depended on the day and on the season. Often, it was plowing -- the farm was large and there was a lot of land to tend. Some days it was tasks like hauling wood and other materials from one place to another. And some days they were rented out to other folks, people who weren't farmers, and they carried packs around to wherever their temporary master led them.

It wasn't all too bad, all things considered. It had at least developed his muscles and kept him lean. The worst part of it was that there wasn't enough food, especially on long work days. That was unchanging. And then there were unpredictable things, like getting a master for the day who had a foul temper and used the crop too much. But some days were simply... relaxing. That was the best word Lampwick could think of to describe them.

All of this must have sounded odd to other people -- and he caught a look of pity on Pinocchio's face when he talked of his time there -- but to Lampwick, this was all routine and ordinary, as it had been his life for years.

Still, despite the calm way in which Lampwick could talk of his time on the farm, there was perhaps something deeper, some kind of fear or hurt far below the surface that only bubbled up at unexpected times -- for example, on an evening when the bank building was almost finished and Lampwick was headed home.

The streets were busy with others doing the same. Over the bustle, Lampwick could hear yelling, a sharp, harsh sound. It was a few moments before he discovered that it was coming from the side of the road -- a man and a horse. A man _beating_ a horse with furious strokes. Lampwick had seen it clearly, clear enough to have noticed little details, and yet now he could barely make out anything, his eyes felt so clouded, his hearing far, far away. He could feel his heart beating madly in every corner of his head, although he couldn't tell if it was from fear or anger or just discomfort.  
  
Sweat dripping down his neck and back, he ran the rest of the way back to the shop. By the time he staggered through the door, he was already feeling a little calmer despite being winded from the run.

"Welcome back," Pinocchio started, then when he noticed the sweat dripping down Lampwick's face, added in concern, "Are you all right? What's wrong?"

"I'm fine, I just--" He wasn't sure now what had shaken him so badly. As an ass, he would have clenched his teeth together and taken a beating like that without making a sound, and yet the sight of it a few minutes ago had practically made him throw up. It had felt for a moment like the whole world was slipping away.

Pinocchio placed his hands on Lampwick's shoulders, gripping them firmly. "It's all right," he assured Lampwick, his eyes still filled with concern, yet somehow calming. "You should have some supper."

"Yeah, thanks," Lampwick replied. He took a seat at the dining table where Figaro the old cat was already sitting, eagerly awaiting for the meal to commence. Lampwick rubbed the cat's head playfully. "You're weird, Pinoc," he said. "You're really weird."

"What?" Pinocchio looked up from laying out dishes, confused.

Lampwick smiled, not a mocking smile but one of peace and relief. "Nothing."


	6. Whittling

"You're not going out today?" Pinocchio asked.

Now that construction on the bank was complete, Lampwick had been spending his days looking for work again -- well, he was supposed to be doing that at least.

"Nah," Lampwick answered, "I can't take any more of that beetle's chirping." _Beetle_ was what he called Jiminy when he was annoyed with him.

"Well, I don't mind if you want to hang around the shop today," Pinocchio said, returning to his work.

"Pinocchio..." came Jiminy's stern voice.

"Aw, don't be like that, Jiminy," Pinocchio replied, not looking up from his project. "Lampwick's been working hard, hasn't he? He could use some rest."

The cricket didn't seem too happy with that, but he didn't argue with it either.

Lampwick pulled up a stool next to Pinocchio's work area and sat there, head in hand, watching Pinocchio as he worked. After a while he asked, "How'd you get into that? Wood carving?"

"Father taught me."

"Your old man was a woodcarver, huh? He want you to keep the business running?"

"Well... not really." Pinocchio was sure that his father had other hopes for him -- Gepetto had even mentioned the university on occasion. But by the time Pinocchio had finished school, his father's health was failing, and there was nothing so miserable as the thought of leaving his father alone in his shop while he studied in a different town or worked at a job far away.

"So you stayed, and he taught you how to carve?"

"Yep," Pinocchio answered. "I'd always had a knack for it anyway."

There was quiet for a while. Then Lampwick broke it by asking, "D'you think I could try it? Woodcarving?"

Pinocchio blinked. "Oh, sure, of course. What would you like to do?"

Lampwick shrugged.

"Maybe some whittling then." Pinocchio found some tools and a small block of wood that already had some of its corners whittled off. After showing him how to use a knife to scrape off parts of the block, he handed the block to Lampwick to let him try, watching him closely and giving him tips. Lampwick's hands were very different from his own, he noticed -- leathery and calloused, with little trails of dirt between the nails and creases of the skin. His hands told their own story. After a while of watching, Pinocchio was satisfied with Lampwick's technique. "Yep, just like that," he told Lampwick and went back to his own work.

"Hey, what should I make?" Lampwick asked.

"I dunno. Anything you like."

Lampwick scraped for a while in silence, tapering one end of the block into a point. "Maybe I can make a fish," he said. "This is the mouth, and just need a fin back here..." He whittled for a few minutes before suddenly jolting in surprise, his knee colliding with the table loudly in the process. "Whoops --"

Pinocchio looked up. "What happened?"

"I banged my finger with the knife," Lampwick replied.

_Banged?_ Just as Pinocchio had managed to utter, "Are you okay?" he saw the red sprout on Lampwick's hands. At the same time, Lampwick exclaimed, "Ow! God, that hurts."

As Pinocchio had thought, when knives collided with fingers, what usually resulted was a cut. He hurriedly grabbed some cloths from a pile at the end of his workbench and rushed back to where Lampwick was sitting on his stool.

Except that just as he got there and was about to apply the rags to the cut, Lampwick slumped off the chair and fell to the ground with a loud thud.

Jiminy jumped up. "What's going on? What happened?" the cricket asked.

Pinocchio propped Lampwick up on his leg and pressed the cloths hard against the bleeding finger. "I think it's all right, he just cut himself. Lampy -- hey, Lampy!" Lampwick didn't awaken, but it was clear he was still breathing and Pinocchio could feel his pulse through the fingers he was holding.

He came to half a minute later. "Wha' happened? Where am I?"

"You cut yourself and passed out," Pinocchio explained, indicating his hand. "I'll keep squeezing it until the bleeding's stopped."

"Oh... thanks." After examining the trail of half-dry blood down his arm, he added humorously, "Guess this means I don't have what it takes to be a woodcarver, huh?"

_"Everyone_ cuts themselves," Pinocchio assured him.

"Still," Lampwick insisted, "my hands are practically hooves. I dunno why I thought it'd be a good idea to try something that actually requires skill with 'em. You shoulda stopped me, Pinoc!"

Pinocchio laughed quietly. "Sorry. Here--" He found a bandage and wound it tight around Lampwick's fingers. His hands lingered there for an instant before he let them fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long to post this. Mistakes were made in terms of failing to finish a fandom exchange gift and then having my posting and motivation thrown off by that. But I'll try to be better and finish what I start (that exchange gift included). So sorry...


	7. Salt Mines

That night after dinner, Jiminy brought up the issue of finding work again. "There must be some kind of work you can do, Lampwick."

Pinocchio paused in thought. "Hm... what did you do before the farm?"

"What do you mean?" Lampwick asked.

"Well, you said you worked on the farm for eight or nine years, but it's been over ten years since Pleasure Island."

"Oh, yeah... Right, I worked in the salt mines for a while."

"Salt mines? What are those?" Pinocchio's eyes were bright with innocent curiosity, a very familiar look that Lampwick remembered from long ago. It was hard not to answer questions when faced with eyes like that.

"They're like these underground mines. I guess you get salt from them. We'd carry packs, they'd lead us through the tunnels and stuff." It was harder to talk about that time, he'd found. It wasn't that it had been all that much harder than working on the farm -- it had been a little more dangerous, maybe, with the cave-ins you heard about every so often, but other than that it was pretty comparable. The real problem was that it had been the early days, the days when he was still unused to the idea of being a donkey.

Pinocchio switched the topic once he realized Lampwick had said all he was going to say, but later that night, much later, after the lights had been put out and everyone was sleeping, Pinocchio whispered, "Are you still awake, Lampwick?"

"I'm awake."

"I was just wondering, did you want to talk more about it? About the mines, or about Pleasure Island?"

Lampwick stared into the darkness, turning that question over in his mind before deciding -- "Yeah." He wasn't sure how coherent his thoughts were, but he had a bunch that were bouncing around in his mind. "You know when the Blue Fairy turned us back, there were three of us -- three jackasses that were really boys, I mean, out of all of them on the farm. But in the salt mines, all of the donkeys were from Pleasure Island. We'd been sent there all in a large group, and I mean, you could tell that we'd all been boys before -- we were the most terrified bunch of asses you've ever seen.

"There was this guy... I still don't know if he was in on the whole Pleasure Island business, but he trained us, made it so we'd be good at the salt mine work, you know, made it... made it so that we knew that we were donkeys and that we would work like donkeys worked." In the darkness, Lampwick bit his lip. That had been the hardest: those moments when your humanity was yanked from you, bit by bit. Losing the ability to speak, eating hay for the first time because there was nothing else, and -- when the mines closed down and all the donkeys were sold -- going to a new owner who didn't suspect for one second that you had ever been anything but an ass. "Pinoc... didn't you go through any of this?"

"No, I... I escaped. I climbed a wall and tied myself to a rock and then jumped into the sea. And then from there I searched for my father."

Lampwick turned his head in Pinocchio's direction, confused. "Wait, wait, what happened after you jumped in the sea?"

"I stopped turning into a donkey. I was off the island."

"No, I mean... How did you survive the fall? And how could you swim when you'd just tied a rock to you?"

"Oh, this was when I was still a puppet."

Lampwick sat up in bed. "A -- _WHAT?"_ he asked.

"A... a puppet? When I was on Pleasure Island, I was still a puppet. You didn't know?" Pinocchio told his story of being fashioned by his father Gepetto and being animated by the Blue Fairy a few days before he'd gone to Pleasure Island.

In his bed, Lampwick rubbed his forehead in shock. "Oh my God, I can't believe this..." He'd never suspected at all, but suddenly a lot of Pinocchio's _weirdness_ on that island made a ton of sense.

"You really didn't know?" Pinocchio asked. "I'm sure I told you about how the Blue Fairy turned me into a real boy, didn't I?"

 _"No,"_ Lampwick said emphatically. "You said she turned you _human_ too, as in she changed you back from a _donkey."_

"Well, that's the truth too. She turned me back from a donkey -- when I left Pleasure Island, I had these donkey ears and a donkey tail, and I thought I'd always have them, but they were gone when she made me a real boy." There was a long silence before Pinocchio spoke again. "You don't think I'm... weird... do you?"

"You're no weirder than me, I s'pose," Lampwick answered. Internally, though, he had to admit it was a hard revelation to swallow. How strange it was to imagine that Pinocchio had started his life as a puppet! In a way, it felt like knowing that fact changed his entire view of Pinocchio, and yet he supposed nothing had changed at all.

"I'm human now, though," Pinocchio was saying. "I mean, I've been human for a long time. See --" There was the sound of Pinocchio sitting up in bed, and then -- "Um... nevermind."

Lampwick cocked his head to the side in amusement. "What -- were you going to show me your body or something?"

"I -- well, yes, but, I mean, not like that. Um, I mean, I was just going to show you that I'm not made of wood. But it's too dark for you to see anyway, so... nevermind."

Lampwick's first response to the flustered tumble of words that had just come out of Pinocchio's mouth was a chuckle, but after that he managed some reassuring words. "So you're flesh and blood. I believe you." Somehow, it sounded like Pinocchio needed the reassurance, like he wasn't quite sure himself that he was human.

"I suppose it's about time we went to sleep, huh?" Pinocchio said after a while.

"Yeah," Lampwick agreed. A short time ago he was reliving some of his most painful memories, but at this moment he had a smile on his face. Sleep came easy.


	8. Beetle

As it turned out, however, work did not come easy. To make up for his day of rest, he'd been out with Jiminy for three days straight, and he'd managed to find some odd jobs people were willing to pay him for, but no regular work. He sat down on a curb at the side of the road, and put his head in his hands in frustration.

"I know it's hard," Jiminy said. "I think everybody's got it bad right now. But you can't just give up. The shop doesn't make Pinocchio a lot of money --"

"I _know_ ," Lampwick said, annoyed. He looked down at his hand, tracing the closed-up cut on his finger, thinking about just how much he owed Pinocchio.

"-- and you know he buys food and cooks for everyone. If you don't get a job, he won't be able to make ends meet."

That thought had already occurred to Lampwick, and the last thing he wanted right now was to be lectured on that point by a nagging beetle.

"If you don't find work --"

"What happens then, huh?" Lampwick snapped. "Look, I love Pinocchio as much as you do, and I'd rather live on the streets than see him go hungry on my account. So -- so -- I don't need your lecture. If I can't find work, I'll leave."

The cricket stared at him for a moment in stunned silence. When he spoke, his tone was softer. "You don't have to do that, Lampwick, and I'm sorry if I made you feel like you did. To be honest, Pinocchio's been much happier since you came." Jiminy hopped up onto Lampwick's shoulder. "You'll find work. You just have to keep on trying."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Lampwick pulled himself to his feet and started walking again.

_Love._ That word had slipped out on its own. He had of course meant it in the way he had used it, the love between friends, but something in him wondered at the choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really regret trying to (1) post this fic in chapters, and (2) naming each chapter of the fic. But now that I'm here, I'll just struggle through it. So yeah, that's why this chapter is so short and why I'm posting the next one immediately.


	9. Transformation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And... here's the last chapter. Just a heads up that this chapter has a sex scene (that escalated quickly!).

Pinocchio sanded a piece of wood absently and wondered if perhaps he was slowly going crazy. He wasn't sure what had started it -- maybe it was that nighttime conversation they'd had last week, or maybe it had started even before that. All he knew was that, somewhere, his view of Lampwick had changed. Whereas before he could talk to Lampwick like he could any other person, now there were times when just making eye contact was nerve-wracking. He was sure it was getting worse too, as if the more he consciously noticed the nervousness, the more nervous and self-conscious he got.

And all the while, he was worried that his nervousness would become obvious, and then that the _cause_ behind the nervousness would be just as obvious, that cause being that...

He... found... Lampwick... attractive.

That was the best way to describe the feeling. It hadn't been that way before, and he didn't know how or when he'd started thinking it, but that was insignificant. The real problem was that he was apparently unable to _un-think_ it. It affected the way he greeted Lampwick when he came home that evening, how he talked to him over supper, how he looked at him when they went to bed. Sighing to himself, Pinocchio closed his eyes and drifted of to sleep.

He was woken later by someone shaking his shoulder and whispering his name above his head.

"Pinoc. Pinoc, hey, you awake?"

Pinocchio blinked. The room was still almost pitch black. "It's not morning, is it?" he asked groggily. "Did something happen?"

"Not really," Lampwick replied from the side of the bed.

Pinocchio pulled himself into a sitting position, then paused. "Why are you over here? Why'd you wake me up too?"

"Had a nightmare," Lampwick said.

Pinocchio's confusion melted away into concern. "Oh no, I'm sorry. Did you want to talk about it?"

"It was just about, you know, transforming. I'm fine, just didn't want to go back to sleep right away and have the same nightmare, y'know?"

"Well, here, I'll light a candle and we can talk for a bit." Pinocchio found a box of matches and the candlestick on the desk by his bed and lit the wick. When he turned back, the matchbox slid out of his hand as he gaped at the sight in front of him. _Oh, right,_ he thought. In his drowsiness, he'd temporarily forgotten that Lampwick slept _naked._ "Wh-why are you sitting in my bed when you don't have any clothes on?" Pinocchio hissed, the heat rushing to his face.

"I had a nightmare, I told you," Lampwick said, missing the point completely.

"What I mean is, you can't just... uh... I mean, shouldn't you wear a nightshirt when you sleep?"

"I don't have one. And I find sleeping like this more comfortable anyhow. You should try it sometime." Lampwick grinned.

Pinocchio reddened further. Was Lampwick... teasing him? Without glancing at his companion, Pinocchio climbed back onto his bed and, as if to compensate for Lampwick's lack of covering, pulled the blankets over himself. "So... did you want to talk about something?" he said. "Pleasure Island? You said you dreamt of transforming."

"Yeah, it's the worst. I think I'm happy and safe and then suddenly I imagine it's happening to me again."

Pinocchio looked down at his hands. After learning what Lampwick had been through, he wished that he'd been smarter back then, wished he'd had the ability needed to save Lampwick and escape. And knowing Lampwick had spent all the years in between as an ass, now he regretted not trying to locate him during that time... Maybe because he had gotten his happy ending, he'd always assumed the same would have come to the other boys too and they'd be living their own lives.

Lampwick turned his head toward Pinocchio. "Oh yeah, before I forget, I wanted to thank you."

Pinocchio blinked in confusion. "Thank me?"

"Yeah, for everything. For the bed, and board, and listening to my story. And humoring me with that whittling crap, too." He grinned, at first a smirk that faded into something more sheepish. "And uh... I ain't good with feelings but... you're really important to me, Pinoc. I just wanted to say that." When he met Pinocchio's gaze, the look in his eyes was intense. Beneath that gaze, Pinocchio could feel his heart beat louder. Was that longing in Lampwick's eyes, or was Pinocchio simply projecting his own feelings there?

Almost as if in a daze, his heartbeat thudding in his ears, Pinocchio leaned forward slowly and kissed Lampwick, a clumsy brushing of his lips against the other's.

At first, Lampwick was surprised, but then the red-haired man kissed back, much harder than the first.

Pinocchio could hardly believe this was happening. They wrapped their arms around each other and Pinocchio's self-consciousness melted away into elation. It felt so perfect to be pressed up against each other. A few moments later, a different sort of self-consciousness returned when Lampwick pulled the covers down off of Pinocchio and started pushing up his nightshirt.

"H-hey," Pinocchio said.

Lampwick glanced up. "Sorry. I can stop if you like."

"No, it's all right... I'm sorry, I'm just nervous." He'd never been touched by someone like this.

Lampwick pushed his shirt up, fingers tracing up along Pinocchio's torso and then down again toward his hip. "Yep, you're flesh and bone all right," Lampwick said, grinning. "Have you ever done this before?"

"No."

"Not even with a girl?"

Pinocchio shook his head.

"Me either, but then again I've been a donkey for the past dozen years. What's your excuse?" Lampwick said jokingly. "You at least know how it works, right?"

"Well, yeah," Pinocchio said. When it was a woman and a man at least. "Not when it's two men, though... Do you?"

"Sure I do." He paused. "Well actually, not really, but it oughta be pretty easy to figure out."

Pinocchio lay down on the bed and Lampwick laid himself on top, covering him. Bare skin to bare skin along the whole length of their bodies, it felt ten times better than what they'd been doing before. They kissed again, and Pinocchio ran his hands over Lampwick's back and down to his buttocks. Their members, pressed between their bellies, were hard. Slowly, Lampwick began to thrust, skin sliding against skin. Pinocchio did the same.

Gradually they picked up speed, rutting together, faster and faster, panting and letting out pleasured gasps. Lampwick came first, shooting his semen onto Pinocchio's belly. After he was done, he pushed himself up and wrapped his fingers around Pinocchio's penis. Then he pumped it up and down until Pinocchio came in his hand.

It was the most amazing, most wonderful feeling in the world to Pinocchio. He lay there for a while as his breathing gradually returned to normal. He suddenly felt perfect, like he was for the first time in his life a whole person, complete.

"That was _amazing,"_ Lampwick said from where he lay next to him.

Pinocchio stared off into space. "I've never felt so... so..."

"Human?" Lampwick offered.

_"Real."_ Pinocchio smiled. Yes, he was real. He was a man just like any other. Finally, _finally,_ it sunk in.

After the initial euphoria wore off, though, it was replaced by realization of the act. "What will Jiminy say?" Pinocchio asked, nervously pulling his nightshirt back down.

From his side, Lampwick said, "Who says we're going to tell that beetle anything?" After a moment, he continued, "Anyway, I'm going to sleep." He stood up, leaned down to give Pinocchio one last kiss on the forehead and then went back to his own bed. "G'night, Pinoc."

"Night, Lampy." Pinocchio leaned over to the table by his bed and blew out the candle.

In the darkness of the room, both men closed their eyes and gave silent thanks to the Blue Fairy for her gifts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I love this pairing so much, and at the time, this was the longest fic I had ever written. Anyway, would love to hear what people thought about it!


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